


Ice and Fire

by Lys ap Adin (lysapadin)



Series: Choice [8]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Genderswitch, Smut, khrfest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:05:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lysapadin/pseuds/Lys%20ap%20Adin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a dichotomy that works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Adult for smut. For [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/khrfest/profile)[**khrfest**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/khrfest/), prompt _VII-30: f!Xanxus/f!Squalo – leather & feather; smut preferred_. Genderswitch. Light bondage. 1295 words.

Squalo is startlingly fair, so pale that her eyes are the color of ice and her veins show blue through the places where her skin is thinnest, and so sparely built that she is all long lines and sharp angles. Xanxus likes the way Squalo looks in her bed when she is stretched out against the sheets with the color burning high on her cheeks and flushing across her chest, spreading across the small taut handfuls of her breasts. Squalo's lips are red where she bites them and the leather that Xanxus has wrapped around her wrists makes a stark contrast to the milky fairness of her skin.

She is panting now, lips parted to gasp for air as Xanxus runs her fingers down her throat and over her breasts, light as a feather, and strokes them over the shape of Squalo's breasts. They are, Xanxus knows, exquisitely sensitive, and Squalo arches under her, straining against the cuffs that fasten her wrists to the headboard and swearing as Xanxus strokes them lightly. Squalo can't move very far; Xanxus has her knees on either side of Squalo's waist and pins her against the bed with her weight, but that's the kind of thing that simply makes Squalo groan, low and open.

Xanxus smiles to hear it.

Squalo's eyes are fever-bright, glittering up at her. "Boss," she whispers; her voice is pitched low, intimate, when she's loud in everything else that she does. "Boss, _please_."

Xanxus hums, pretending to consider it as she plays with Squalo's breasts and Squalo shudders under her hands, but she's ready too. Squalo moans for her, low and nearly desperate as Xanxus shifts away from her waist, and spreads her knees wide, offering herself up. She gasps and quivers under the hands that Xanxus strokes up her thighs, her lips moving silently to shape voiceless pleas, and she is wet when Xanxus slides her fingers against her. Squalo cries out then, low and open, shuddering when Xanxus presses her fingers deep. Xanxus watches her, stroking her firmly; Squalo plants her feet wide against the bed, arching up and rocking her hips with the stroke of Xanxus' fingers, her arms making a bowed arc over her head. The sight is enough to make Xanxus wet her lips as the heat pools low in her gut, and she straddles Squalo's thigh, rubbing against her as she fucks Squalo, letting the friction of it send heat singing up her spine.

Squalo is sensitive _everywhere_ ; she comes off fast when Xanxus curls her fingers and slides her thumb up to stroke against her clit. The sound she makes when she comes is barely a moan; she squeezes her eyes shut as her body shakes, wringing itself down on Xanxus' fingers.

Xanxus keeps touching her, fingers moving in a slow rhythm even after Squalo sags loose again, chest rising and falling rapidly as she sucks in deep breaths of air. "Boss," she whispers, looking up at Xanxus with her lashes heavy over her eyes. "God, Boss..."

Xanxus just smiles at her, sliding her fingers deeper and grinding against Squalo's thigh. She likes having her fingers inside Squalo, likes using them to drive her over the edge again and again. She doesn't stop until Squalo lies against the bed, a tumble of loose-jointed limbs and too dazed to do anything more than moan for her and watch with heavy-lidded eyes when Xanxus reaches down to bring herself off, too. "Boss," Squalo sighs, voice reverent, as Xanxus arches over her, shuddering with the heat that rushes through her. "Oh, Boss..."

"Yeah," Xanxus tells her, prowling over when she's finished. She catches Squalo's mouth, kissing her. "Mine."

Squalo's moan of agreement is full-throated.

   
 

Men's eyes follow Xanxus wherever she goes, lingering on the fullness of her hips and the lushness of her breasts. The smart ones know better than to do no more than sigh regretfully as they look at what they can never have. The stupid ones never live very long after trying to act on what they see and can't help wanting.

Squalo suspects that Xanxus is on a private mission to eradicate stupidity from the gene pool through her own process of unnatural selection. Why else would she favor the supple leather of their uniforms and the flair of short skirts if she didn't enjoy tempting the stupid and the wary to their doom? But some of the ways of her boss are unknowable, and this is one of them.

Besides, it's not as if the world is ever going to run short of idiot men.

Squalo's heard that people say Xanxus is made of ice, though no one ever calls her a frigid bitch anymore, not where Squalo can hear them, and haven't since Squalo left Carlo trying to hold his guts in place. She doesn't really understand how anyone could make such a stupid claim. It's as clear as the sun in the sky that Xanxus burns like a bonfire, dark and glorious; anyone with two brain cells to rub together ought to be able to see that.

There are, as Squalo sometimes broods, entirely too many people who are too dumb to breathe in this world.

But they don't really matter, especially not here and now. Nothing really matters here in Xanxus' bed except for Xanxus herself, especially when she is reclining against her pillows all languorous and bare and is making satisfied sounds low in her throat as Squalo touches her. Squalo still can't believe her own good fortune in this, can't believe that Xanxus wants this of _her_ or that Xanxus looks down at her with such clear satisfaction burning in her eyes. If it were left to her, she would handle Xanxus accordingly, touching her as worshipfully as she deserves. Xanxus doesn't have a lot of patience for that kind of gentleness, though she tolerates it with a faint, wry sort of amusement from time to time, especially after they've both taken their pleasure from each other. Xanxus prefers to _feel_ Squalo's hands on her; she arches and writhes under Squalo's mouth when Squalo kisses her breasts and groans at the edge of Squalo's teeth when she bites delicately down on the peaks of them.

Filthy words roll off Xanxus's tongue in a fluid moan when Squalo feathers kisses down her stomach; the sound of her voice is rich when Squalo settles between her legs, burying her face there to lap at her. Squalo loves the sounds that she can draw out of her boss, the groans and breathless curses, and the feeling of Xanxus' hands in her hair, stroking it restlessly as her hips move under Squalo's fingers. Xanxus' fire comes through in bed the same way it does in a fight, wanton. The men who think she's cold have no idea of how glorious she is when she comes, arched in a bow against the sheets as her pleasure shakes her. They never will, either. This is Squalo's and only Squalo's, her special privilege and charge as Xanxus' right hand; she revels in being the only one who gets to see and touch Xanxus in this way, mouth working against Xanxus busily as Xanxus sprawls beneath her in all her glory, groaning with how good it is.

Best of all is what comes after, when Xanxus pulls Squalo to her so she can slide her own fingers into Squalo and drive her out of her head until Squalo can barely see straight. It's then that Xanxus lets Squalo settle against her and that she curls a hand around Squalo's nape, holding her. Her voice is richly satisfied when she says, "Mine."

Squalo is only too pleased to bend her head to her boss's hand and assent to that claim. 


End file.
